When Kindra woke it wasn’t one of the boys in the tent, but Oak. His arms were crossed, and a deep frown marred his face as he studied the Odion sword where it hung on one of the beams by the door. It had been the sword of Fie Eoin’s chiefs until Fennec failed to produce a boy. Now it was a sword with no one to wield it.

Kindra propped herself up despite the pain, and Oak turned, dropping his arms.

“You disobeyed me.”

She tried to smile, but it pulled at the cut on her chin. “As you can see, I’ve already been punished for it.”

“Indeed.” He crossed his arms again as he stared down at her. “Pike left the tribe and won’t be allowed to return. I cannot allow either of you to continue as warriors.”

She shrugged and gasped at the pain in her shoulder. Oak looked at the bowls and cups at his feet and found the one with cold tea. He sniffed it and handed it over.

Kindra swallowed it in one long gulp. “How did the Obsidians know about Kaye’s wings?”

The look on his face told her what she had refused to believe before. Oak sold her sister to their enemy for peace. Kindra licked her lips. “You should have warned her. Us.”

“If you had known you would have made a mess of my peace. Just as you tried to do yesterday.”

The bitter taste of the tea coated her tongue. “Your peace is worth nothing if you have to buy it with priestesses.”

“She’s not a priestess.”

“What happens when that’s not enough? What happens if Kaye can’t give him sons? What happens if they decide they want more?”

Oak took a deep breath. “Then we give them more.”

Kindra sat up although the pain almost made her faint. “And if they want your sister next? If they want the last Faye priestess?”

“Why do you think I offered them Kaye?” His hands dropped into fists. “They wanted the High Priestess. Kaye’s a Faye and an Odion—the only thing they would accept in place of my sister.”

Kindra threw her cup on the ground. “So you sold them my sister? She was going to be Fie Eoin’s next priestess.”

“We can train another priestess.”

Kindra put her head in her hands, but that hurt more than sitting up straight. “Your peace is heartless. I’d rather die with honor than suffer your peace.”

“Follow your sister to Fie Obsid again and I can guarantee your death.”

Her brows knit together as she watched him fidget. “I don’t know why you hate me so much. I’ve always defended you against the rumors you killed my father.”

He sighed and knelt to retrieve her cup. He brushed it off and poured more tea. “I don’t hate you, but you make this peace more difficult than it needs to be. The tribe rallies around you because you’re the last Odion warrior.”

“Not anymore.”

He frowned and handed her the cup. “And you rile them up to vengeance and war. Just like your father did.”

Kindra sipped the tea and watched him as he studied the tent. It had been the Conal tent before Fennec died and Oak became chief. The two families switched tents so the new chief could have the extra space the Odions no longer needed. “You didn’t like my father much, did you?”

Oak was staring at the sword again, a deep frown marring his face. “Everyone loved your father. He was an Odion, an excellent warrior, loyal to fault. Just like you.”

Kindra smiled a little at that, despite her chin. She had always tried to be like her father.

The chief faced her, and his frown remained. “He was also reckless, and that’s what got him killed. It will do the same to you, if you don’t learn to fight smarter.”

Her smile disappeared. “That’s what Gar says.”

“And he would know. He learned that lesson the hard way.”

She stilled. Was this the secret Gar was keeping from her? “What do you mean?”

Oak’s eyes widened in surprise. “No one’s told you?”

Kindra’s heart began to pound in her chest, and she swallowed. “Told me what?”

He shook his head. “Ask Gar about your father’s death. It’s time he told you what happened.”

She knew the circumstances of her father’s death, but she was never told the names of those involved. The voice of the High Priestess, muffled through a tent flap, swam to her through eight summers of trying to forget.

“The boy is dead, Loria. The other may yet live.”

“And my husband?”

“If he lives he will not fight again.”

If the other boy was Gar…

“I’m sorry, Kindra. I came to tell you about Pike, not his brother. I hope your injuries heal quickly and you take what I said to heart.”

Oak bowed, surprising her, and ducked out of the tent. Kindra was left with her thoughts and a pain that felt like being stabbed in the back.